Clara screamed and screamed as the abyss swallowed them whole. This was it. The end of her short life. To die so far from home, so terribly far. When her back hit something icy and slippery and her breath punched out of her lungs, she stilled. This wasn’t death. This was water.

She kicked her legs and thrust her hands in swift strokes. The cold water chilled her to the bones. When her head broke through the surface, Clara gulped a lungful of air. A shiver trekked through her spine. Tamer had surfaced beside her.

We’re alive. Alive!

He held her shoulder to keep her steady. “Mecha, see if you can find a way out.”

A spot of purple light lit up as Tamer extricated the crystal from his drenched pocket. She had dropped hers. Mecha left its spot from her head and flew around in circles, its dome-shaped body lighting up in a topaz glow.

He moved back. “I’ll check underwater.”

As Tamer sunk back into the water, the pit grew dark. She followed Mecha’s glow when it soared higher and higher towards the crevice from which they had fallen. She couldn’t tell how deep the pit was but the fall had felt endless as though they were descending to the bowels of hell.

A grimace crossed her face. She swam away from the center of the pool and ran her hands along the coarse walls. There were no steps out of the pool. If they couldn’t find a way out, they would be trapped in the pit until they starved to death or succumbed to hypothermia.

Don’t think of death.

Mecha returned to her and tried to settle on her head but she grabbed it. “Did you see anything?”

It gave a prolonged chirp that ended on a low pitch.

No way out. We’re stuck here.

She sighed and let it sit on her neck. Squeezing her hand into the pocket of her trousers, she pulled out one of the magical shards and traced the Smog symbol with her thumb. The crystal provided a source of light but it was too dim.

The water stirred and Tamer rose to the surface. He breathed in the cold air and spat water. “I found a tunnel but I couldn’t follow it to the end because I ran out of air. We’ll need to swim through it.”

She returned the crystal to her pocket. “Let’s go.”

Clara inhaled and then dived inside the pool. She followed Tamer into the tunnel, using his crystal as a beacon. They swam until her legs ached and her lungs begged for air. Memories of her near drowning experience materialised in her mind, driving fear into her heart. Thunder roared in her ears and water pressed into her ribs. She shoved the images away from her thoughts.

The underwater passage rose upwards as they neared the end. When she saw flashes of light, she swam faster until she reached the surface. Her chest heaved and her eyes stung.

Mecha squealed and fluttered away. Clara took in the surroundings once her eyes had adjusted to the light. Stone steps dipped into the pool and pale blue light streamed from an arched passageway to the far side of the cave. Dragging herself out of the pool, she sat on the ledge and squeezed her clothes dry.

“I thought I was going to drown,” she said.

Tamer held a hand to her. “I wouldn’t let you.”

She put her palm on his and he pulled her up. His wet shirt clung to his frame. He wasn’t bulky but she could see lean muscles outlined by the clothing. She lifted her gaze to his face, at the three-day stubble that gave him a sharp warrior look. Her gaze went higher.  He had caught her staring.

Clara slipped her hand off of his but not before she saw the slight curl of his lips. She walked to the arched entrance, intent on finding a way out and get the seal—whichever came first.

She huffed.

“What’s wrong?” Tamer asked.

“Nothing.”

She passed through the entrance into a circular subterranean hall. The scent of fresh roses wafted to her nose but the irrefutable stench of rotten vegetables tainted the air as if vitality and decay fought for control.

Blue light shone from the floating orbs suspended in the air. Mecha flew to the nearest sphere of light and played with it. Snakelike vines covered the walls and tiny blades of grass flourished in the cracks between the stone tiles. She studied the vines, noting their ascent towards the ceiling. They wrapped around a huge cocoon that thumped like a beating heart.

“The seal could be in here,” Tamer said.

She motioned to the cocoon with the tilt of her head. “Up there?”

He shrugged. “Maybe.”

A large rose hang from the vines, skirted by smaller buds. Its petals touched the floor.  She passed a dais at the centre of the hall and stood beside the flower.

“I could sleep between the petals.” She grinned. “The rose is as large as a carriage!”

Tamer raised his eyebrows. “What’s a carriage?”

She pinched the bridge of her nose. “It’s a vehicle which has four wheels.”

He gave her a blank stare.

“It’s pulled by a horse. I mean two horses. Well, in some cases, one horse is capable enough.” She waved her hands to show the shape and size of a carriage.

He folded his hands across his chest. “Uh-huh.”

Clara pouted her lips and imitated his posture. Seconds passed as she glared at him.

“I know what a carriage is.” He gave her a full smile, complete with the dimples.  “I just needed to hear it from you.”

She stuck out her tongue at him and retreated to the centre, kneeling on the round dais. There, the tiles were painted a midnight blue. The pungent scent was still present as she looked down to examine the symbols inside the ring. “What an odd smell.”

He sniffed. “Bothane. Flammable gas.”

She swallowed. If Tamer made the mistake of igniting his scimitars, they would all combust into flames. The image of burning flesh and charring clothes threw a spark of alarm on her senses. She wanted to leave the room but knew better. They were still trapped.

Tamer traced the symbols on the dais and frowned. They resembled elegant calligraphy of an exotic language.

“Do you know what they mean?”

He nodded. “It’s written in the ancient tongue of Amzara, a language used ten thousand years ago. This must be where they kept the seal.”

A flicker of hope fuelled her interest. There was nothing in the hall that was worth noticing aside from the large rose, the vines, the dais and the cocoon. She suspected they were all connected in some mystical way.

“It’s a riddle.” Tamer wiped dirt from the symbols. “It says: Set aflame and face the sun’s wrath. Break asunder and flesh will mend. Descend from grace and bless with rain. Only then will life unfold.”

She asked him to read it again, sentence by sentence until she memorized the words. All traces of humour were gone from Tamer’s face as he stood up and paced about the floor.

“Set aflame and face the sun’s wrath. This must be about the presence of bothane in the air. It’s a warning. What would make us light up a fire in the first place?”

“Setting a camp here?” she said even as her words turned into a doubtful question.

He scratched his chin. “Perhaps there’s more to it than it seems. Bothane isn’t common in natural caves. It’s produced in laboratories or emitted by the forces of magic. Someone must have left it here to protect something.”

Clara’s eyes wandered back to the ceiling, where the cocoon pulsed in steady beats. Thick stems squirmed together with the rhythm of the thumps.

“The vines! They keep the cocoon in place,” she said in excitement.

“Assuming you’re correct, then what?”

“Well, we can’t burn the vines to prove it.”

Tamer released an irritated sigh. “I hate riddles.”

Clara chewed her lower lip, a habit that she resorted to when feeling restless. She went back to the dais. Below the symbols, there was a bow-shaped dent with the tips pointing upwards—a crescent moon in the night sky.

Break asunder and flesh will mend. Could it be…?

She saw recognition in Tamer’s eyes before she spoke. Striding over to a section of the wall, Clara pulled a handful of the vines and threw them on the floor. The tendrils wriggled like earthworms on a moist ground then stems regrew and leaves flapped open.

“They grew back!” She pointed at the vines.

“I figured.”

To test her discovery even further, she tore a petal from the large rose and gaped as another one shot up from the sepal to replace the old one.

Tamer glared at the cocoon. “That solves the second part of the riddle. You’re right. The seal must be inside that thing.”

She nodded. “If we solve the riddle, we get the cocoon. Any ideas on the third part?”

He shook his head. Clara sat on the floor and folded her legs. Head on her knees, she listened to her breathing and closed herself to the surroundings. Mecha’s squeals faded to the background and Tamer’s pacing became a lost echo.

Descend from grace and bless with rain. What does that mean?

Mecha’s cries slipped through her barrier. Frowning, she looked up at the mechanical bug. It was trying to push the blue orb which did not budge an inch. Crestfallen, it dropped to Tamer’s shoulder. He patted its head, soothing it.

Smiling, she watched him while he spoke to Mecha until the little critter calmed down. Clara went back to her musings. An idea floated in her mind.

Bless with rain. Rain. Water. Must I water the rose and the vines? But how?

They had not container to fetch water. Without a word, she darted to the entrance and cupped her hands before dipping them into the pond. It was a stupid idea. The only idea. She rushed back to the hall and splashed the little drops that had not slipped between her fingers onto the big flower. Nothing happened.

“I guess I’m wrong,” she said.

Tamer grabbed the rose and attempted to pull it out. The vines coiled around the stalk, holding it firmly.

Clara snorted. “That doesn’t work either.”

He glared at the rose. “I’ve heard of it before, from my mentor. There is a way to destroy it but it slips from my memory every time I think about it.”

She didn’t know what to make of the flower. They couldn’t burn the vines to release the cocoon and solving the riddle was proving to be difficult. For all she knew, the seal might be somewhere else. It could be hidden in a secret chamber or buried underneath the water in the tunnel.

He kicked the flower in contempt. “I remember it. This is the enchanted bloodrose. The vines are part of it.”

“A bloodrose?” She looked at the red petals and wondered whether it had gotten the name from its color.

“Born of blood magic, it guards what it’s meant to protect until a sacrifice is made. Blood sacrifice.”

“Is that similar to the blood contract I made with Naaji’s entity?”

“Not quite. Both of them are of blood magic but they serve a different purpose.”

She still couldn’t interpret its meaning. What sort of blood sacrifice was needed? Whose blood was needed and how much was required? A gallon or a few drops? The questions rolled in her mind in a long list.

He gave the rose another harsh kick. “Stupid riddle.”

Tamer was quiet for a moment then he spoke in a harsh Shimian tongue. It sounded like a string of expletives. Had he solved the riddle? He was hiding something from her.

“How much blood is needed?” she asked.

His eyes didn’t meet hers as he responded. “A few drops.”

“You cracked the riddle, didn’t you?”

He threw back his head to observe the cocoon, his lips drawn thin. ““Rain” means “blood”. It’s a clue that the plant is truly a bloodrose. “Descend from grace” means “a descendant of the throne.”"

Confusion set in. Understanding dawned on her. Tamer’s sudden outburst made sense now. To destroy the bloodrose, they would need the blood of a noble, a king or a queen. A prince or a princess.

Unbelievable.

He was seething in anger. His jaw popped and his fists clenched. She could feel her own irritation rising. They were trapped in a pit, away from civilization, hungry and tired and the only way out was far from their reach. She had placed all of her hope on finding the seal—that it would lead them to the surface.

“Maybe there’s another way out,” she said.

“There isn’t. I checked.”

“There has to be. We can’t just die here!” she snapped.

She sat on the floor and sighed. It wouldn’t do good to vent out her frustration on him. She didn’t want to accept defeat. To give in and wait for death. Not after surviving that dangerous fall. Tamer had told her she had the affinity for magic and she wanted to believe it.

Staring at her palms, Clara envisaged a flow of current flooding through her veins, a torrent of power flowing into her hands. There was no heady sensation. No thrill of magic.

Why won’t it work?

Seconds transformed into agonizing minutes. Silence suffocated the room. Vines slithered and writhed. An hour passed. Or maybe two. She didn’t count. Time was meaningless in a death trap. When Tamer drew a knife from his belt, she narrowed her eyes.

“What are you doing?”

He said nothing. In two purposeful steps, he was standing before the bloodrose. He unclenched his fist. Metal sliced flesh and blood dripped from his left palm. She watched as crimson drops fell one after another. One. Two. Three. They plopped on the petals, a splash of red against red.

The rose unfurled as if to embrace the blood rain but its color darkened until it turned muddy brown. Petals wilted, leaves crinkled and vines hissed. The tendrils and the flower burned in invisible fire until they were nothing more than smokeless ashes.

“Tamer, you’re a—“

The cocoon thudded and swayed. It plummeted to the ground in a heap, its shell broken upon impact. From the remains, a slab of pulsating flesh arose, a deformed monstrosity in the shape of a slouched man. It rose and rose until it stood on it full height—the height of four grown men combined.

The giant roared, slamming its foot to squash them.